by Eva Mazza
Lee’s words were calm but firm: “Here’s the thing, John, you’re basically saying that we’re all going down with you and that you couldn’t give a shit.”
John finally sat down on the couch opposite Lee. Just last night this very room was filled with friends celebrating his birthday. To try and take his mind off things, he had been watching yesterday’s rugby game between the Lions and the Stormers. The Lions had become a team to be reckoned with. He continued to watch the game as he spoke.
“Look, Lee, I’m not saying that at all. I just don’t want to be at the mercy of this bitch. Most men go to whorehouses; they’re known as strip clubs.”
Lee picked up the remote and turned off the television. “Okay, I need to be clear here, John, as I don’t think I can say this any other way. You know that the club is one of the best-guarded secrets? Do you know why?”
John shrugged. He chewed on a piece of ice.
“Let me enlighten you. It’s run by very powerful okes. They don’t want to be exposed, John. This will make the front page of the newspapers if Patty has her way. Christ, do you think she’s just going to tattletale to our wives?” Was Lee ridiculing him? “She’ll go to the media. She knows if the club is exposed, someone’s head is going to roll, and she’ll make sure it won’t be hers. It would cause a media frenzy if anything should happen to her.”
John got up to pour himself another drink. He was starting to feel drunk and, with that, very brave. “So, the club’s exposed. What the fuck?”
Lee slammed his empty glass on the coffee table. “When you poached her, I warned you not to because I was instructed to. I got a call this afternoon. Patty has already threatened to expose them. If Patty does anything to jeopardise the club, your head will roll, and they’re not speaking figuratively.”
John laughed. He couldn’t believe the shit that was coming out of Lee’s mouth. “You are joking right? Come on, Lee, we’re not in Italy. This is not a fucking Mafia movie.”
“No, we’re not. We’re in South Africa, true. But, who do you think runs sex clubs? The boy scouts? The thing is, I’m afraid for your kids’ lives. I’m also afraid that you’re gonna jeopardise our safety.”
John still wasn’t buying into Lee’s bullshit story. “Kak man.”
“How do you think you got into the club?” Lee asked.
“Frans had connections.”
Lee smiled at John condescendingly. “It was through me. I got you invited.” This is what irritated John about his friend. He liked to flaunt the fact that he was more connected than him. Richer than him. Fuck him!
“That’s how it works. I know one of the, erm, shareholders, for want of a better word. He’s given me business, good business, and I’ve been a member of his club for a couple of years now. Frans was invited through me, and we thought it would be fun if we went as a group.” John carried on drinking while Lee spoke. “You caused major crap when you poached Patty. I had a lot of explaining to do, as I was the one who put you forward as a member. Patty’s threat has rattled them. You need to stop her – whatever it takes and no matter how much money it costs. I’m not taking the rap for this, John. It was your blowjob. You pay for it.”
The phone rang several times before Patty answered.
“Hello, Patty,” John said. She didn’t answer. “I feel very cheated out of a happy ending. In fact, the endingsssh been anything but happy.”
“You’ve been drinking, John.” She curled her legs under her bottom. This was going to be tedious. She took a sip of her coffee. It was nice and hot.
“That’sh right, Patty. It’sh been a fuck up from shtart to finish. What ju want?” he slurred.
“I beg your pardon?”
“How much ju want to shut the fukup?” He was incoherent. Patty wondered where everyone was. It was his birthday, after all.
She told him the amount she wanted. “Happy birthday, by the way,” she added.
“You’ve got to be kidding?”
Patty was business-like. “No, I’m not kidding. I take it Lee has spoken to you, so I don’t have to tell you how serious this is, John.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, irritated. “That’sh a shiiit load of money. D’you think I have that kind of money lying around in my bottom drawer?”
“No, I don’t. But I do know that you’ll work something out. You have till Friday.” She wasn’t sure if he was capable of anything with all the alcohol flowing through his veins. “Why don’t you cede one of your insurance policies?” she suggested. “I’m sure Frans will help you.” She smiled, knowing that her knowing he had policies to cede would irritate him.
“How do you know…?” He changed direction. “It jush doeshn’t sheem fair. I mean, you got to be pleasured and I’m fuucking paying for it.”
She really wanted to drink her coffee uninterrupted. It had been a tiring day. She had had a lot of explaining to do, and fixing, for that matter. “You’ve got until the end of the week, John,” she said, wrapping her hands around the warm cup.
“Did you shcrew me over, Patty? I can’t help thinking that you fucked me over.” Patty ignored him.
“Do not put the money into my account. I’ll text you an account number.” She wondered if John would remember anything tomorrow. “Phone your financial advisor, John.” Her sarcasm was lost on her drunk, soon to be ex, boss. “Phone Frans now. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you, even on a Sunday night. I don’t want cash. Remember to deposit the money, John.”
“Yesh, up your arsh!”
Patty laughed despite herself. John couldn’t help laughing either. “I’ll send you an account number. Now phone Frans. And then go and have a good night’s sleep. Maybe you’ll dream about me, John, ’cause there never will be a happy ending with me. Ever.”
Twelve
Jen and Claudia walked back to Jen’s lodge. What a wonderful evening it had turned out to be. There had been an immediate connection between them and, after the initial seriousness of Jen’s situation, they had moved on to the issues of men, ageing, children and just living in general.
“So, tell me a bit about yourself?” Jen had said.
Claudia smiled that warm, endearing smile. “I was widowed only five years after my wedding. My husband was killed in a car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was the darkest period of my life – his death and the fact that we couldn’t have children. Daniel and I had tried to fall pregnant without success. I love children. I guess that’s why I work with them; I feel as if I owe it to those kids who haven’t been given the parents or the love they deserve.”
Gerard had organised for Claudia to share the evening treatment with Jen. On their walk back, Claudia shared that she had been dating a younger man for the last two-and-a-half years. “I met him at a mutual friend’s house. Little did we know that it was a set-up! An unusually successful one at that.”
He was a well-known Cape Town-based divorce attorney whose clients included many celebrity cases. She nudged Jen: “If ever you want a divorce lawyer, he’s your man. He’s hellishly expensive, but there’s no doubt you will win a very good settlement, especially with what you witnessed this morning.”
The moon had risen in the sky, and there was enough light to illuminate the path. It was a perfect summer’s evening: crickets chirruping relentlessly and the occasional bat flying low across the night sky, clearly making Claudia a little skittish. She’s definitely a city girl, Jen mused. There was a comfortable silence as Jen processed the evening’s conversation.
“Do you believe in fate?” Jen smiled. “I’m certainly starting to believe that it was written in the stars that I would come here and meet a woman who is a psychologist, who is dating a divorce lawyer. I mean, what are the odds?”
Claudia laughed. “I suppose. Sometimes I see it as just a fluke. I don’t know; perhaps it is written in the stars. I mean, I miss Daniel terribly, but I couldn’t imagine my life without Leonard. Maybe I was supposed to be married to Daniel for only
five years. Maybe I’m one of the lucky few, because those five years of marriage were close to perfect.”
On arriving at the lodge, they found it lit by candles. The calming scent of lavender incense wafted through the lounge and generic ‘Eastern-style’ music played softly in the background. The lounge had been turned into a makeshift therapy room with two portable massage beds placed in the middle. Jen and Claudia stripped down to their panties and lay face down in anticipation of an indulgent hour of pampering. They were silent during their massages. Jen succumbed to her therapist’s knowledgeable hands. Her body ached, and the masseuse found every part needing attention.
Before she knew it, Jen had dozed off into a deep sleep. She was dreaming about John. She dreamt that the two of them were making love. He was caressing her breasts, kissing her neck, moving downwards, over her stomach, with his lips. He stood up to face her and he looked longingly into her eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you more,” she answered.
But then his face hardened, full of aggressive lust. “Patty,” he said, “baby.”
“Mrs Pearce, Mrs Pearce,” the therapist was whispering in her ear. Jen opened her eyes. “We’re done. Ms Feldman said to say goodnight and that she’d phone you tomorrow.”
“Ms Feldman?” Jen asked, disorientated.
“Claudia Feldman.”
She began to get her bearings. “Oh! Of course. She’s gone already?”
“Yes, you’d fallen asleep. We left you for a while, while we turned down your bed.” The therapist handed Jen a white waffle gown. “You should have a very good night’s rest.”
“Thank you.” Jen waited for the door to close.
Waking up from a deep sleep, her dream and the darkness and silence overwhelmed her with an intense emptiness and loneliness. She lay in a foetal position and began to cry. Silent whimpers turned into loud sobs. Her shoulders heaved as she purged herself of the day’s trials. Emotions she had suppressed for years came spilling out. She cried for her youth; she cried for her mother; she cried for her children; she cried for herself, but most of all, she cried for her loss. The loss of the man whom she loved and thought she knew. Who was he? Who is he?
She was inconsolable, feeling she could not bear to do this on her own. She had to phone someone. But who could she talk to at this time of night? Not Claudia. She hardly knew her, and why would Claudia want some emotional wreck ruining her much-needed rest?
Frankie. God knows Frankie would call me if she were in a crisis. Frankie’s phone was on voicemail. “Frankie,” she sobbed, “I could do with a friend right now. Please phone me when you get this message.”
She tried to pull herself together, but she couldn’t stand the loneliness, the silence. She would try Frankie’s house phone. This was an emergency. It’s late, but Frankie will understand. I would.
Frankie’s landline rang for quite some time until Lee’s sleepy voice wafted through the receiver. Jen tried to sound calm. “Lee, I hope I didn’t wake you. Is Frankie asleep? I really need to speak to her, please?”
“She said she had booked in at the spa with you. Is she not with you right now, Jen?” He sounded far more awake now.
The room spun. Oh damn, damn, damn! She probably used me as an excuse to meet her lover! I’ve just blown her cover. She thought quickly. “She may have booked in to her own lodge, Lee. I made it very clear with reception that I was not to be disturbed. I took a sleeping tablet, so I haven’t been awake till now.”
“Have you tried her cellphone?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t. I’ll try now.”
Jen’s hands shook as she redialled Frankie’s cellphone. Again, no answer. “Frankie, it’s me again. I phoned your house. I needed to speak to you desperately. Lee answered. He said you’re supposed to be with me at the spa. I’m sorry, Frankie, but I think I’ve just blown it for you. Please phone me back.”
Jen paced, waiting for Frankie’s call. This had certainly put an end to her little pity-party. The phone rang and Jen answered immediately.
“Shit, Jen! I should’ve told you I was using you as an alibi tonight. Sorry.” Jen was furious, but Frankie hadn’t noticed. “You said that you’d made up some excuse. What is it?” And then as an afterthought, “Are you okay, by the way?”
“I’m fine now. I’ll be okay,” Jen said. Suppressing her anger, she relayed her conversation with Lee then ended with, “Just sort out your lie, please. I really don’t want to be used in your deceit, Frankie. Make sure I’m not implicated in your alibi. I’ve enough to stress about.”
Jen ended their call abruptly. Bloody self-centred woman! She got back into bed and lay there in the dark. She was dead tired, but sleep wouldn’t come to her. She tossed and turned, mulling over things – things people had said or implied about John. Much of it just didn’t add up.
The next morning, she walked to Claudia’s lodge for breakfast, wearing a purple bikini – imported from Israel – under a matching sarong selected by Jenny, the receptionist. It was hellishly expensive, but she didn’t care. It had been some time since she had worn a two piece or had spent so much on swimwear. But after last night’s tossing and turning, she didn’t give it a second thought.
Claudia was tall and lithe, with small perky breasts and broad, bony shoulders. She wore a full-piece costume cut high at the hip. “They’re coming back,” she told Jen. “The eighties’ high-cut costumes. Do you remember the girls in the Wham video?”
Jen nodded appreciatively and broke into song, “Club Tropicana drinks are free…”
They packed up laughing. In the background Gerard was preparing their breakfast with a grin on his face, pretending to be invisible.
“You look terrific!” Jen said admiringly.
“How was your night? You were virtually comatose when I left you.”
“I hit such a downer.”
“Night makes things even bleaker. Why didn’t you phone me?”
“I hardly know you, Claudia, and I thought the last thing you needed was an emotional wreck to ruin your holiday. I tried Frankie, the one who had warned me about Patty.”
“Oh, good. At least there was someone you could talk to.”
“Only, she used me as a cover.” Claudia frowned. “She’s been having this affair with a married man for a while now and she lied to Lee, her husband. She said she was spending the night with me at the lodge.”
“Oh, that’s a bit tricky, and insensitive. Sorry, Jen, I don’t know the understanding you have with her. Does she normally use you as an alibi?”
“I wouldn’t know. I only found out about this convenient cover-up because I couldn’t get her on her cellphone and I was so desperate, I called her house. Lee answered.” As she spoke, she realised again the potential trouble she had caused for her best friend.
“Oh my God, I know where this is going!” Claudia said. “So, what happened?”
“I made up some rubbish that I had stipulated I wanted to be alone, and that I had just woken up after taking a sleeping tablet. I told him that it could be possible that Frankie had checked in to her own lodge.”
Claudia winced. She took a sip of her orange juice and picked at her fruit salad. “How do you feel about being used in this way?”
“Well, I’m angry! I was feeling this surge of emotion and I needed to speak to my best friend, and she wasn’t there for me. For the first time since yesterday morning, I had allowed myself to really feel; and as overwhelming as those emotions were, I had to quell them because I was worrying about Frankie! I hate that she used me, and I hate that I lied to her husband. I don’t want to be complicit in her affair.”
Claudia was about to speak, but Jen continued with more gusto, “In fact, I feel incredibly angry that she didn’t spend time with me. Instead, she used me and my situation – my pain – for her own pleasure!”
“Not good,” Claudia said. “I do think that you need to have it out with her. Feelings of anger are starting to surface, which is a good thin
g, but I think that as much as Frankie’s behaviour is unacceptable, your anger is misdirected. Start directing it at the person who really deceived you.”
Jen agreed, and told her about the things that she had only recently heard about John. In the past, there were nasty whisperings, but Jen had chosen to ignore them. “I have been so focused on my kids and on playing the good housewife that I didn’t have time for gossip.”
“Is there a lot of gossiping?”
Jen laughed. “Stellenbosch is full of gossips and I grew up with them. My mom had a deceitful husband – my father – and I’ve learned to ignore people and what they say. I believed that all that mattered was my trust in John. And there has never been any concrete evidence to prove these rumours, until now.”
“What about divorce?” Claudia asked. “Is this an option?”
“I’m not sure. I mentioned divorce to Frankie and she said it was ridiculous to even entertain that thought.”
Claudia laughed. “Well, that’s coming directly from the adulterer’s mouth!”
Jen smiled. “Putting that aside, she has a point. Who’s going to want me on the brink of menopause? John would move on. Successful men his age will always be sought after, and I’d be a bitter divorcée – lonely and desperate.”
Claudia sprayed sunblock on her face. “Perhaps, but it’s not about whether he’s going to find someone else; it’s whether you want to stay in your marriage? Can you stay married to John? Is this what you want?”
Jen burst into tears. “All my married life I’ve heard: ‘You’ve nowhere else to go,’ and it’s true. All my inheritance is tied up in the farm. When we first married, I sold my land and ploughed the money into John’s – our! – farm. The rest of my inheritance is kept in a joint bank account. It might seem short sighted, but at the time, it was the right thing to do. I never married to get divorced. This was a union for life. It was expected of me. It’s what I wanted to do.”
